Upon her arrival in the OR, the nurses busied themselves and quickly gowned and gloved Cristina. She looked up at the OR gallery and met Bailey's intense stare; it was too late to turn around now. Owen had managed to locate the source of the bleeding and was now trying to ease the flow singlehandedly. The intern who was meant to be assisting him stood uselessly beside him, merely watching his measured, fluid movements.
Deep in thought, Owen was trying to hold and stitch the tear with no avail when a familiar, yet professional voice came from somewhere beside him.
"Clamp the myogenic artery and suction away the blood to achieve a better visualization of the tear. Bokey, hang another bag of O-neg. The patient's already put out about 750ml of blood."
Owen looked up and froze. "Cristina." It sounded more of a question as opposed to a statement. Surprise had resulted in the loss of his ability to formulate longer sentences. For a moment, brown eyes met blue ones,
"Dr. Hunt" she acknowledged, avoiding his piercing stare. "Could you clamp and suction while I attempt to perform the repair?" she repeated in a professional and detached tone.
He obeyed her request without another word, his startled blue eyes occasionally drifted up to her face, as if they were checking that she was still there.
Forty minutes later, Cristina rechecked her stitches; they were flawless. The tear in the heart was now sewn up and the organ had suffered minimal damage. She was on the verge of leaving the OR when Owen's voice pulled her back.
"Wait, Dr. Yang, I think I may need an extra pair of hands to remove the rest of the bullets and to repair the GSWs. Could you possibly stay behind and assist?" he questioned cautiously.
Cristina was about to open her mouth and politely decline Owen's offer when she noticed Bailey's Nazi-like glare radiating from the OR gallery. As much as she wanted to leave the OR and avoid the awkwardness between herself and Owen, she had no desire to suffer the wrath of Bailey that would surely come upon her if she were to refuse. "Uh, of course," she replied unenthusiastically as she walked back towards the operating table.
She's so close yet so far, thought Owen as his gaze drifted up again to the seemingly emotionless petite face hidden behind the white surgical mask. Would now be a good time to start a conversation? A voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Can you hold this clamp in place while I stitch up the hole in the diaphragm?" asked Cristina, her eyes still staring fixedly at the insides of the patient. Her tone was professional and detached.
Wordlessly, he reached to over to replace her hold on the clamp. As he did so, his fingers lightly brushed against the back of her hands, her warmth could be felt even through the thick latex gloves. The brief contact left a tingling sensation that travelled like an electric current from the tips of his fingers right through to his toes. It reminded him of the warm glow he had experienced within him during their previous encounter in the afternoon on the vent. The attraction he felt towards her was like the attraction of two opposing poles of magnets in a strong magnetic field. He yearned to touch her again, just to soak up her warmth and reignite the warm glow that had dimmed within him. The line that separated right from wrong began to blur.
Snap out of it, he thought, as he found himself edging ever so slightly towards Cristina. He instead tried to concentrate on her hands that were so firm yet so gentle. Although he had already seen her operate earlier that day for the first time in two years, her flowing movements still captivated him. The memory of Isaac's inoperable tumour surgery from just over two years ago resurfaced in his mind. His smile was hidden behind his surgical mask as he remembered the time when she had bluntly referred to his hands as 'hams' and hers as 'little geniuses'.
Flashback
He watched her quietly from the doorway, a smile lingering on his face. He watched as she tried again to carefully aim the pen at the note. She was standing too close to the nueroleicascope, her body angled awkwardly as she tried again to place the tip of the pen at a specific spot. Her persistence and patience were just another one of the many positive characteristics he loved so much about her.
"You're doing it wrong," he said leaning casually against the doorway, trying to hide the affectionate smile that threatened to sneak across his face.
"Uh, no I'm not," retorted Cristina.
"Yes you are." Owen paused. "I could show you" he continued, smiling slightly.
"You?" Her voice was incredulous. "Look at your hands. They're hams. Mine are tiny little geniuses," she retorted, wiggling her fingers at him.
"It's not about the hands. It's about the body," he said as he moved slowly towards her, placing his hands on her hips, guiding them gently away from the nueroleicascope. "Tilt your head." He moved his hands up to rest briefly on her shoulders before moving onto the instrument. "Your eye level?" he asked, adjusting the lenses of the nueroleicascope gently.
"Mhmmm," was Cristina's reply as she gazed through the lenses.
He then moved his hands down her body so that his arms snaked themselves gently around her thin waist, pulling himself towards her. He breathed in her sweet scent before leaning forward and whispering in her ear "If you stand too close, you begin to thrive within yourself." Holding her in his strong yet gentle arms, he felt content as he watched her gingerly placed another dollar bill under the cup. He breathed her in again, her appealing fragrance intoxicating him as she again lightly tapped the surface of the dollar bill with tip of the pen.
Pulling the pen back, she cautiously lifted the cup up; anxious of what lay under it. It was removed to reveal George Washington's nose obscured by a red dot which had resulted from Cristina's handling of the pen.
Owen peered over her shoulder and murmured "Good. Go again," still holding her tenderly in his arms. Cristina being in his arms felt so right. They fitted together perfectly like two lost pieces of a puzzle being reunited. And he stood there, lost in the bliss of that perfect moment with Cristina in his arms.
End of Flashback
The memory had somewhat fueled the glow he felt once again warming up in his chest and his mind returned again to the present.
The view he had from the crowded OR gallery before was nothing compared to the view he had now, standing less than a meter away from her. This was simply breathtaking. Then, before he knew it, she had put down the needle and was again rechecking her flawless sutures.
Her voice interrupted the trail of thoughts running through his mind.
"I've repaired the tear in the diaphragm and extracted the bullet lodged in the patient's lung." Her chocolate eyes that had been carefully avoiding his cerulean ones throughout the surgery looked cautiously at him. "I'm about done so I'll uh leave you to finish up," she continued as her eyes drifted to something over his shoulder, again avoiding eye contact.
"Wait, Cristina." He hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether disclosing the next request in front of gossip-hungry nurses was wise. "Could we- could we at least talk later? Like get a drink or something?" His last sentence came out garbled as the feeling of desperation had gotten the better of him.
"Sorry, what?" was Cristina slightly shocked reply. He had no right to be asking that of her. And she had no intention of talking to him again before she left Seattle.
Owen opened his mouth to reply just as the OR doors opened and Teddy Altman appeared, slightly out of breath. Bailey leaned forward in her chair and watched on with a great deal of interest from the OR gallery.
"Sorry, I was in another surgery and there were many complications. You pag-" Teddy broke off suddenly as she began taking in her surroundings and those that were in it. The awkward tension that suddenly filled the room was so thick that one could have cut through it with a scalpel. The silence that was experienced throughout the room was deafening.
"Oh," was all that Teddy could muster; surprise had made her speechless. The sight of her boyfriend and her ex-student, who happened to be her current boyfriend's ex-girlfriend, standing less than a meter apart was more than she could digest right now. It was something she hadn't seen in over two years.
"Cris- Dr. Yang helped to repair the tear in the heart since the patient was bleeding out on the table and there were no other cardio surgeons available," explained Owen, his eyes drifting from Teddy to Cristina, monitoring her reaction.
"Uh, actually, I was just about to leave," said Cristina heading towards the door, trying to find an escape out of the awkward silence. She deposited her gloves and surgical mask into the nearest medical waste bin before exiting the scrub room. If she had looked behind her as she left the OR, she would have noticed a pair of broken blue eyes following her, begging her not to leave.
Owen wanted to reply and stop her except there was nothing he could do under Teddy's watchful gaze but watch her walk away again.
Cristina's mind was flooded with thoughts as she walked down the OR hallway. She almost collided into Meredith and Izzie whom were both dressed in civilian clothing.
"There you are! We've been looking everywhere for you!" exclaimed Meredith.
A confused look spread across Cristina's face. "Uh why? It's like almost 10pm. Shouldn't you be at home with McDreamy and you with Evil Spawn?"
"We ran into Avery in the elevators and he mentioned something about a girls' night out," Meredith replied.
"Two hours ago as well," added Izzie.
"So you two are actually going to just give up your boy penises and get drunk with me?" snorted Cristina disbelievingly, slightly taken aback.
Izzie and Meredith exchanged awkward glances.
"Well uh- Derek already took Mark out for drinks since they both lost a lot of patients today," answered Meredith uneasily.
"And Alex is still in surgery. And he's on call tonight," came Izzie's reply.
"So McDreamy left you for McSteamy. And Evil Spawn abandoned hot sex for a surgery," summed up Cristina. "Guess we all need drinks then."
"Today sucks," agreed Meredith. "Anything interesting happen to you?"
"I might spill a bit after a few shots of tequila," laughed Cristina as the three of them headed towards the elevators.
An hour and a half later, Owen's patient was finally out of surgery and stable, although not without a few other complications. Owen was still unsure of how much of his conversation with Cristina had been overheard by Teddy, but that was one of the last issues playing on his mind right now. The main issue was Cristina; she walked away over and over again, and there was nothing he could stop her.
Teddy had remained in the OR until Owen had closed up the patient. Her eyes never left him during the entire time. Her face still showed her surprise of seeing Owen and Cristina standing in such a close proximity, but she made no attempt to pursue the issue further. Owen had avoided making eye contact with her as he brushed past, heading towards the exit of the OR. She had followed him wordlessly as he headed into an on-call room.
"Not now, Teddy," he said, his voice lower than usual, as she shut the door behind them. "I can't-"
"I get it, Owen. You need time to think. You need space. I get it. You need to convince yourself you made the right choice. And when you have, I'll be here," she peered at him cautiously, and with a sympathetic yet worried look on her face, she left him to his thoughts in the on-call room.
Owen was lost deep in thought.
He didn't want space. He didn't want alone time. He didn't want Teddy's sympathy. All he wanted now was an actual conversation with Cristina. It was hard enough for most people in the hospital to merely exchange a few words with her due to her increasing popularity that had resulted from the lymphoma surgery. And now, the fact that she'd be purposefully avoiding him made the possibility of a proper conversation extremely unlikely. It was then that Owen realized; what he needed wasn't alone time to think everything over. What he needed instead was a bottle of single malt scotch to drown out everything that had happened today.
Screw thinking, he thought as he left the on-call room to get changed into civilian clothing and head off over to Joe's.
At Emerald City bar, it had become apparent that two years apart had done nothing to change the friendship and differences between Meredith and Cristina.
"Penises, Izzie," said Cristina drunkenly.
"Estrogen, George. Estrogen," corrected Meredith.
"Why do men always complicate things?" slurred Cristina. "Men are stupid."
"Yeah. Only stupid men abandon their wives and hot-sex for a stupid boys' night out," Meredith said as she drained her drink.
"And who would turn down hot sex?" added Izzie, downing her drink while leaning heavily on George.
"Apparently your boyfriend did for surgery. But that's just called being hardcore," hiccupped Cristina.
"Shouldn't we head home now? The Chief hates it when we're late for pre-rounds," said George quickly before Izzie could reply.
"Not Cristina. She's too good for rounds now," taunted Izzie in an clearly inebriated tone.
"We're all going to be wasted tomorrow," George muttered, taking another sip of his beer.
Cristina was about to make a sarcastic remark when a flash of red and blue registered in her peripheral vision. Even in her drunken state, she knew who it was. Meredith appeared to have noticed too as she nudged Cristina drunkenly and slurred "Is that G.I Joe?"
